


The Apron Incident

by ChampagneSly



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:55:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChampagneSly/pseuds/ChampagneSly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift for saturngirl, who did me a great big favor and I have returned it with this cavity-inducing fluff and smut involving that frilly pink apron and Edgeworth's best attempt at giving Phoenix something sweet to which to come home and enjoy. </p><p>Even if it involves breaking and entering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apron Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saturngirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturngirl/gifts).



> Can be read as a sequel of sorts to All Right (It's Going to Be). 
> 
> Apologies for spamming the fandom--the first throes of a new obsession ;)

There long days and then there were really long days—the kind that were made up of a never ending slog between this crime scene and that evidence locker while trying to wring information out of another witness with more than one screw loose and a hatchet to bury in between the shoulder blades of Phoenix’s latest client. And sometimes those really long days turned into really long weeks that left Phoenix limping out of the courtroom feeling so exhausted that even his hair seemed to droop beneath the constant pressure to pull off another wild victory.  It wasn’t that he didn’t love the work he did, that there wasn’t something addictive and amazing in seeing an unexpected connection or contradiction and watching the entire case unravel at the point of his finger, but sometimes he wondered how he always managed to land the lost-cause clients.

On this particular evening,  after the longest of long weeks, when he had finally managed to coerce Gumshoe into taking Maya out for dinner so he could wallow in the silence of his apartment for a few hours, Phoenix wanted nothing more than to drown the week he’d endured in several very cold beers followed by a very long sleep.  He could almost taste the beer as he unlocked the door, could almost feel the soft indentations of his ragged old couch as the door opened, could almost smell the chocolate  wafting from his kitchen.

“Chocolate?!” Phoenix dropped his keys and his jaw, very much aware that he’d never cooked more than noodles in his kitchen and he was pretty sure there was no good reason for his house to smell like the inside of a Godiva factory.  He paused with one foot in the door, blinked into the unexpected brightness of his living room and wondered what kind of insane burglar would break into his house to wreak havoc on his pots and pans.

“Maya?” Phoenix ventured as he crept closer to the scene of the on-going crime, even though he knew Maya was currently eating her way through Gumshoe’s paycheck.  

The only answer he received was the sound of an oven slamming shut, followed by a satisfied, “Hrmph,” he would have recognized anywhere.  His jaw dropped a little wider, his heart beat just a little faster, and maybe his mouth watered a little bit too as he came to the sudden, wild conclusion that Edgeworth was his mystery home-invader.  While that realization (and the smell of chocolate) was already enough to make his stomach flutter with Edgeworth-induced butterflies, there was nothing that could have prepared him—not even interrogating a parrot—for the indescribable, delectable sight of Miles Edgeworth bent in front of his oven and wearing the pinkest, frilliest, apron he’d ever seen.

Phoenix knocked his head against the doorjamb to ensure this wasn’t a sleep-deprived hallucination or one of his weirder daydreams, but rather than disappearing, the vision of aproned-Edgeworth merely spun on its heel, clutched a chocolate-spattered spatula, and glared.

Death glare notwithstanding, Miles Edgeworth standing in his kitchen with a flushed face, rolled up sleeves, and trussed up all pretty in pink was, without doubt, the cutest, most ridiculous thing Phoenix Wright had ever seen.  

He tried to swallow his giddy, disbelieving laughter, ran a hand through his wilted hair and grinned.

“You really can’t do without ruffles, can you?”

“I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean, Wright.” Edgeworth’s eyes narrowed dangerously, the spatula trembled in his hand and dripped batter all over Phoenix’s kitchen floor.

“Oh, you know…” Phoenix took a step closer and risked flicking one of the many, many folds of pink fabric that covered up the many, many folds of Edgeworth’s ever-present and equally frilly cravat. “Just admiring your exceptional taste in kitchen attire.”

Edgeworth flushed, his jaw clenching with the force of his displeasure as he said, “Don’t be a fool. I’m merely borrowing this from Ms. Fey for the evening.  As if I would own such a thing.”

“Uh-huh. How silly of me to have thought otherwise.” Phoenix wisely decided not to point out that the majority of what Edgeworth owned was in the same sartorial vein as the offending apron. Instead he brought his hand to Edgeworth’s frowning face and rubbed his thumb over a streak of cocoa powder that dared to mar Miles’ skin. “So….what brought on this little breaking, entering, and cooking adventure?”

“I did not break in. I also borrowed a key from Ms. Fey.” Edgeworth’s voice was sharp, but his expression was awkwardly sweet as he turned his chin into slow brush of Phoenix’s fingers.

“….so you could put on a pink apron and make me brownies?” Phoenix asked, unable to keep a thread of laughter from twining around his words because sometimes his life was so surreally unexpected there was nothing to do but smile and enjoy it while it lasted.

Edgeworth’s gaze skittered away, the surest sign that he was about to confess something that probably fell under his definition of “unnecessary feelings.” Phoenix kissed the corner of a poor, much abused jaw, and wound his arm around Edgeworth’s waist to toy with a precisely tied bow. Edgeworth shifted a little closer, loosened up just enough to fit better into the curve of Phoenix’s arm and to make room for the lips that wanted to chase the taste of salt and chocolate.

“I was led to believe by certain parties that you were experiencing some difficulty at work this week and that baked goods would not go unappreciated, even if I fail to comprehend how chocolate is going to assist you with your legal fumblings.”

Edgeworth explained slowly, like he was wary of how Phoenix was going to react, which was completely ridiculous because slights against his legal prowess aside, Phoenix was pretty sure this was the nicest thing anyone had done for him in a really long time. He untied Edgeworth’s neat little bow, wrapped the ties around his fingers, and tugged until Edgeworth was standing between his legs, looking distinctly nervous and still brandishing the spatula like some sort of weapon.

“So, it was your turn to cheer me up, huh?” Phoenix asked gently, reaching up to pry the damned thing out of Edgeworth’s hand before he ended up covered in batter as punishment for invading his personal space.

“Merely returning the favor, even if the original favor was never requested or required.” Edgeworth hedged, watching forlornly as Phoenix tossed the spatula into the sink and took advantage of Edgeworth’s distraction to play with the apron’s ruffles. Long fingers trapped Phoenix’s hand against pink cotton and a hesitant gaze, cloudy gray and always arresting, kept him quiet as Edgeworth murmured, “I did not think you would mind.”

Phoenix laughed and shook his head, “Are you crazy? I definitely do not mind.”

“…..I’m glad.”

Apparently mollified, Edgeworth deigned to put his hands on Phoenix’s waist and step in close enough to kiss, dropping his eyes to Phoenix’s lips and not so subtly licking his own.

Phoenix pulled on the front of the apron until Edgeworth’s mouth was inches from his and those gray eyes were fluttering shut as he whispered, “Even I couldn’t think of a better surprise than to come home and find everyone’s favorite demon prosecutor in my kitchen looking all pretty in pink.”  

Edgeworth froze and Phoenix laughed, brushed a kiss over a needlessly embarrassed frown and admitted, “I think its cute. I think you’re cute.”

“Cute?” Edgeworth muttered lowly, fingers digging into Phoenix’s waist. “You really are simple, aren’t you?”

“C’mon. Don’t be that way. I like that you broke into my house, put on Maya’s clothes, and cooked for me.” Phoenix grumbled fondly, nipping Edgeworth’s stubborn chin and pushing his knee between Edgeworth’s thighs to maybe encourage him towards more a more positive opinion of Phoenix. Edgeworth made a little noise that Phoenix chose to interpret as‘more, please.’  He peered at oven and considered. “So…uh…how long until the brownies are ready?”

“Seventeen minutes,” Edgeworth answered promptly, eyeing Phoenix with guarded interest and not a little suspicion. “Why?”

“Because I need to know how much time I have to say thanks.”

Made bold by exhaustion and the still-thrilling notion that Miles would want to do this sort of thing for him, Phoenix turned them around, backed Edgeworth against the counter and hoped that he looked less pathetically enamored than he felt. He crowded against Edgeworth’s chest, cupped his face with both hands and kissed him for all he was worth, swallowing Edgeworth’s surprised exhale and giving back a happy sigh. The clutch of Edgeworth’s hands and the hurried slip of his tongue inside Phoenix’s mouth was a surprise of its own, the way Edgeworth got hard for him so quickly was almost as gratifying as the taste of chocolate he discovered in Edgeworth’s mouth.  It was enough to make everything that had happened all week seem insignificant, the chaos of his life somehow made orderly again with each deliberate kiss Edgeworth pressed against his lips.

They kissed, long and deep and even a little messy until the scent of baking was unmistakable, the pink apron was balled up in greedy hands that couldn’t stop touching, and Edgeworth was moving against him with an urgency that had Phoenix feeling drunk on a reckless sort of lust. It hurt, a bit, when he dropped to his knees but Edgeworth’s open-mouthed expression of stunned desire helped ease the sting and his nerves as he pushed up the apron and reached for Edgeworth’s belt.

“Wright…” Edgeworth murmured, hands coming rest on Phoenix’s shoulders.

“At a time like this, you’d think you could say my name,” Phoenix joked, rolling his eyes to avoid having to look at the flush on Edgeworth’s cheeks and the way he kept biting his bottom lip like he didn’t really trust this was happening. Phoenix’s hands fumbled and the apron fell, pink and still ridiculous, over his head.

A thumb brushed down his cheek and a muttered, “Phoenix,” echoed in the quiet kitchen as the apron was suddenly gone and Edgeworth was saying, “Allow me.”

“….thanks….Miles,” Phoenix said, kissing the softness of Miles’ wrist before making quick work of a buckle, a button, and a zipper.

He rubbed his cheek against silk, because it felt good and because it made him happy, made him hard, to know that he got to have this secret luxury.  Miles’ hips canted forward and Phoenix smiled as he splayed his hands on pale hips, saw pink out of the corner of his eye, and stripped Miles just bare enough to part his smiling lips and take Miles in his mouth. There wasn’t any taste of sweetness, only bitter-salt on the tongue and the hot weight slipping between his lips to stretch his jaw and open wider and wider for the slow rocking of Miles’ hips.  He drew little circles on Miles’ skin, trying to tell him it was alright to go a little faster, a little harder because Phoenix could take it, could always be trusted to take whatever Miles wanted to give, whether in court or in his kitchen, because they were good when they were together.

The sound of Miles’ sharp breaths and bitten-off groans were louder than the anxious beating off his heart and Phoenix wished he taken the time to get rid of the apron so he could look up and see Miles’ face when he gave opening up his throat and taking Miles deep the old college try. It burned in all the right ways, just like the ache in his knees, and the happy exhaustion he felt when a case was closed and the day was won. Miles’ legs shook, trembled like the voice that muttered something that might have been his name, but Phoenix held on tight and give him just a little more, humming and hollowing out his cheeks until he felt Miles go rigid and still. He closed his eyes and welcomed the rush of Miles’ pleasure.

He was a little flattered but not surprised when the apron fell over his hands and Miles slipped out of his grasp to slide down the cupboards and join Phoenix in a tangled heap on the floor. Miles reached for him and he followed, climbed into the artless spread of arms and legs to let Miles hold him with still shaking hands while they kissed. He grabbed a fistful of the apron and indulged in the pleasure of Miles Edgeworth being needy for him until the oven buzzed and Miles blinked dreamily at him like he’d forgotten there was a reason they were in his kitchen.  It was such a good look that Phoenix decided it was his mission in life to put it on Miles’ face over and over and over again.

Miles flushed and looked down at his undone pants, stammering, “…it seems I owe you another favor, Wright.”

Phoenix laughed and curled in close to rest his head against Miles’ still racing heart, pink ruffles smooshed against his cheek as he said:

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve already given me more than enough.”


End file.
